


It’s Not a Relapse Unless You Bleed (Lies)

by RageHappyThunder



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Depression, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Minor Character Death, Self Confidence Issues, Self Loathing, implied self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 21:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RageHappyThunder/pseuds/RageHappyThunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray’s close friend died and he went to New York. He leaves work with nothing but text in which he explains what happened briefly, saying he’ll be back. He didn’t tell Joel (worried), Burnie told him. Ray didn’t know how to feel about finding his notebook from highschool in which he wrote really dark things. He also didn’t know why he took it with him. And he doesn’t know how to feel when he starts writing again in it. But he knows what he feels is panic when Joel finds it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s Not a Relapse Unless You Bleed (Lies)

It wasn’t raining, it wasn’t foggy, it wasn’t a dreary day so don’t you dare blame the weather. It was sunny, humid, dry typical Texas weather. But when Ray’s phone buzzed he felt like there was a northern downpour thundering against his skin, his stomach dropped and his mouth dried up like rain on the sidewalk on a sunny day. His brain felt like it grew twice his size and couldn’t fit in his head anymore, pulsing against his cranium, his mouth twitched and his eyes threatened for tears to cascade down. He coughed, grabbing his phone and texting a out a message, even though he was in the room with his boss, he shut down his computer and left.

“Ray what-” Geoff’s voice might as well have been God’s, nonexistent to some, but to others clear as day. (To bad Ray was a non-believer, and he was halfway out the door.) Everyone’s phone buzzed at once, them looking down at the simple message.

_Friend died in New York, need time off, I’ll be back. Sorry._

“Ray wait!” Michael called out, saying that he probably shouldn’t go to New York alone, he can’t even drive.

“Just leave him alone, he’s probably going to go home and mourn a bit.” Jack piped up.

No one got much work done, everyone’s stomach boiling with worry.

_Alright buddy, but when you get back you need to file some paperwork, be safe. Don’t get stabbed._

__

A single text from Burnie lit up Ray’s phone, who was currently looking at plane tickets and wiping hot tears from his face.

And then there was Joel. Who, like the good boyfriend he is, called Ray. And texted him. He even fucking emailed him, aimed him, he sent him a message on his xbox but nothing worked.

So Joel thought that maybe Ray needed some space. Joel could do space. Joel could totally do space.

_But what if he was hurt? What if he didn’t get home alright, you fucking fuck you should have offered to take him home before he left, you know you leave the office late…_

_No. Breathe. He’s fine. You’ll see him tomorrow at work._

_Calm down._

****  
  
  


Ray threw something in the kitchen, gripping a cup tightly and throwing it so it was out of his sight, he felt so disgusted with his apartment (and honestly himself too). So he took a plate and just threw on the floor like a three year old having a tantrum. The glass shattering on the ground with an echo, the backlash of what he was doing hit him with a wave of anxiety that he couldn’t explain. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry more but tears wouldn’t come out no matter how upset he was. Ray felt like the sky on  a thundering night, the rain had poured down in buckets, swallowed the ground underneath and when finished the clouds stayed grey above, rumbling with an angry voice of thunder, letting out an electric howl with a flash.

Rain is not poetic.

And then he stared at the TV, mindlessly, using it to numb the pain like ice on a bruise. Then he couldn’t take being in his house anymore, there was something about the familiar scent of home that made him want to go nuts and take his frustration out on something, like a tornado with nowhere to go.

So Ray took a suitcase, dumped whatever in it, and closed it. Like a robot on a journey with no destination, orders seemed to be programed into him. Pack a shirt. Pack pants. You have a suit in your old apartment that you never took out because you told yourself you didn’t need it. Your mom might have it. Maybe your dad. Don’t see your dad.  Leave. Even though his plane only leaves tomorrow morning.

Ray let his body put him in auto pilot, he followed orders, and he followed them well.

_Your friend is dead, he was your age, albeit a few months older, he was exactly like you same build same eating habits; they think it might have either been suicide or a tragic accident he’s dead. Gone. You’ve shared memories together, you’ve had shared experiences. And now he’s gone. He only lives inside of you head now. You are alone. Granted you may have other people who are your friends but no one knew you like he knew you. He’s worm food now._

_When did you get into a taxi?_

_When did you fucking call a taxi?_

~~~

Joel came into work, peaking into the AH office and his face dropping in concern when the person he cared most about wasn’t there. Maybe he’s just late. Joel sauntered to the kitchen to make himself some coffee when Burnie shot him a look, eyes tired, but it made the hairs on the back of Joel’s neck stand up anyway, because it was that look.

“Did Ray call in sick?” The innocence in the question made Burnie’s eyebrows furrow and Joel squint in retaliation, wondering what was so strange about the question.

“Ray’s at a funeral, Joel.” He said gravely, Joel’s eyes widened.

“I should-”  
“No. Let him breathe.” Burnie patted Joel’s shoulder and took a sip of his coffee, “When he gets back you can get all over protective over him okay?”

Joel took a sip of his own cup and burned his tongue.

~~~

Ray arrived home with the sound of his mom trying to breathe life into his long dead apartment, something was in the oven but he didn’t care about the smell. The floor was clean and his bed was probably made but all he cared about was the flash of sympathy in his mother’s eyes, as she stood at bay, her hair cut differently and her body showing her age.

But then her lips let a sound come out, a simple ‘Oh honey,’ set Ray into hysterics, her body trying to shield her son and make the bad dream go away. But he was an adult, and they were very much awake.

Her hands were wrinkly, Ray never noticed how old she was getting. (This made him scared but didn’t take away the fact that she was warm and comforting like a cup of tea in the cold.)

She said something about how in a few days they were going to bury him.

Ray clutched her tighter like she was going down with him.

He had a bottled water for dinner despite his mother’s protest for him to eat something ‘sensible.’

Then his front door clicked, and his mother retreated back to her own house.

So Ray sat down on his couch. Games seemed unappealing, TV seemed useless, food made him want to starve, sleep was unreachable even with warm strawberry milk.

The ceiling was white, though. His apartment seemed to reflect what little light he got from his windows into his room. He should get up and go to bed, turn on a light or something but Ray was currently loving the faint blue colour that was happening, like the night was just a shadow.

He really should get up or something.

So Ray did.

His apartment still had a bunch of boxes. Things he didn’t want/need in Texas, things he never wanted to see, things that had memories that made him sad. But he shuffled through them suddenly, picking a box that he didn’t even unpack when he went to college. The second he opened it there was a little black book; he wondered if there was a bunch of girls phone numbers in it, but he found something he didn’t expect to see when he opened it.

_I thought I burned this._

__

His tux was black and his tie was white, along with his shirt, his pants were a bit tight and his shoes a little too snug but comfort wasn’t really his big priority right now.

When it was over, a few of his friends asked him if he wanted to go out drinking, just this one time. He didn’t.

He got drunk on the overwhelming feeling of guilt he felt, and the pain in his wrist from writing furiously in a little black book that he’s had for a while.

A book that held every part of darkness that Ray tried to shine out with light.

~~~

He came back to his apartment alone, feeling sluggish like a million weights were trying to drag him down. The sun seemed suffocatingly happy and the grass greener than when he left, the atmosphere made him want to throw up.

He opened the door to his apartment to find it clean, glass shattered on the floor was thrown away, and it smelled like coffee and Joel.

Ray was a mess, eyes heavy with sleep, hair awry, but Joel was his complete opposite right now. Any anger of not being told where he was going for a week melted when Ray’s bag hit the floor with a dull thunk. Ray looked up at Joel, flashing him an apologetic hello and a shy wave. Joel kissed his lips softly, his thumb rubbing over Ray’s cheek.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ray motioned his head no.

Joel poured him a cuppa coffee and sat down on their kitchen table.

“Do you want me to let go of your hand?”

Again, no.

When Joel lied down on the couch and Ray held onto him like a giant teddy bear he won at the fair, the other’s hands threading through his hair and rubbing him affectionately, he didn’t feel all alone.

Not alone at all.


End file.
